


The morning after

by blue_chocolate



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Cocaine, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_chocolate/pseuds/blue_chocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the end of summer is drawing near and in between messy 2 am conversations, killer hangovers and an awful lot of badly timed experimenting, Louis somehow falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The morning after

The way the baseline made the house and everyone in it jump was enticing, very, very so, and Louis didn’t quite know how he had ended up there. He went to parties now and then, but this one was a rather sick one – quite literally in some cases.

He was fairly sure that he and the majority of everyone inside were high, and it was such a nice feeling. Drugs had always had a loveandhate relationship with him, and right now their friendship was on a sky-high level. _He_ was sky-high.

It was in the suburbs, the three floor house, and belonged to someone pretty much no one knew the name of but they had all been invited anyway. It was these kinds of parties Louis had seen on TV, where things would go wrong in so many ways before half of the night had passed. He wouldn’t allow himself to be where he was at the moment when in a sober state, but Louis Tomlinson was as far from sober as it is to the end of the universe.

Zayn was hopefully in there somewhere. Hopefully. Last time he’d been seen he was busy either standing stiff like a statue in the corner or going up on the table made stage to show off together with a few girls and guys.

Louis wondered if Zayn also was high.

He danced through the crowded rooms – each one equally filled to the breaking point with people ranging from barely fifteen year olds to at least twenty-four and it was every damn floor. Each and every inch of the three floors – except for certain bedrooms and bathrooms – were covered in bodies twisting different ways. Standing, sitting, laying, dancing, grinding, fucking, singing, smoking, snogging, and then there were those who’d escaped out onto the porch or one of the two balconies on the above floors.

Right into the kitchen he went with his arms raised over his head to become thinner and more easily passing through the sea of people. To grope other humans was apparently totally fine but who was to judge them really?

Bile dripped down from the sink but the smell was blocked by the stinging strawberry scent that seemed intent on lighting his nostrils on fire, mixed with something like lemon or lime. Whether or not it was perfume or detergent or something else they would never know.

The tempo of the current song picked up only to drop seconds later and the speakers placed out on all floors made him feel like his ears were bleeding in the most pleasant way possible.

He licked his dry lips and widened his already wide, red, eyes further to try spotting one of his friends.

Niall was clinking his beer with someone Louis had never seen and laughing as he downed it in one gulp. He was standing beside the down running bile, leaning against the bench with his hand against the cool surface. Most of the windows in the house were open – it was late summer and with all going on inside they could use all fresh air they could get.

Niall tensed visibly as he met gaze with Louis and slowly lowered the empty bottle from his lips. He knew Louis occasionally did light drugs, but he’d never actually _seen_ him high before, so this was a new frightening experience, and one that he would never want to live through again.

Liam bounced into Louis’ view, breaking the stiff line between Niall and Louis, and the latter grinned. However, as soon as Liam also noted Louis’ red eyes and the lips he was constantly licking in an attempt to moisturize them; he gave a pat on his friend’s shoulder and then sneaked off in between bodies to the living room.

Louis’ mood was dropping. His friends couldn’t bother with him, so he had to find someone who did.

And how convenient wasn’t it that Harry stood leaned against the wall in the wild TV-room.

Louis moved out of the kitchen in a style between stumbling and swaying and surely nearly knocked over a dozen people on his way to his friend. He put on a new grin when he saw Harry and tried to imitate his position against the wall, only to have his hand slip on some substance running down.

Harry laughed loudly and helped him up, but the sound wasn’t even audible in the suburb house. Louis grasped his hand and yanked himself up, forcing his inner systems to cooperate with him for just a few more hours. Then he’d go home and throw up on the lawn so that his mother would stand at the bottom of the stairs, telling him in a raised voice who “irresponsible” he was and that “alcohol was dangerous business for a seventeen year old” and also that “he was grounded for a month”. And that was only the alcohol. If his mother knew he was doing cocaine she would get him into rehab or something even worse and more exaggerating.

Oh to be young.

If Louis had been seeing stars and unicorns wherever he turned before, then that was nothing compared to the razor sharp lightning around him and Harry’s white smile in the dark he experienced at the moment.

His wrists were in one of Harry’s hands while the free hand of the taller boy sat low on Louis’ back to hold him up in a somewhat straight and stabile position. His body was still bent in a smooth half curve, and Harry seemed determined to keep him that way with the way his gaze bored way into Louis’ usually blue eyes and the tight grip around his wrists.

Harry’s gracious fingertips moved against the fabric of Louis’ shirt where he held him up and they were both nearly hit by a wasted girl flying into the wall, probably having been shoved by someone.

And so he let his hot lips brush against Louis’ ear and breathed out in the closest thing to a whisper, “You know, I think one of the bedrooms on the third floor is free.”

It didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Louis was high as the fucking sky and Harry were on the verge of collapsing because of the crazy amount of free shots he’d taken that night.

Yes, very great idea.

They guided each other up the stairs, giggling like five year olds, hands clasped tightly together and squeezing every other second, until the couple reached the top of the stairs. A loud laugh erupted from Louis when Harry stumbled and pressed him against the wall, kissing and biting his neck.

Louis felt euphoric as his high peaked and everything just plain and absolutely wonderful where he was in Harry’s arms, skin under his searching, unsatisfied lips. It was so damn good and the music was picking up pace and volume even though his mind started to zone out, only focusing on the purple bites with which Harry marked him.

A door slamming shut or open interrupted their session for a moment, and with one look at each other they started laughing again, sneaking away along the hallway with “silent” steps to the bedroom furthest away at the end of the corridor.

Door being pushed open, they fell into the room to find the bed already occupied with more people than normal – clothes out of sight which only had Louis and Harry giggling more – and the two swerved out again, shouting a “sorry!”

Harry was now taking the lead with a loose grip around Louis’ right wrist and they manoeuvred their way through the sea of people on the halls – seriously though, how many people could fit in such a medium sized house? At least about two hundred, that was for sure.

When some of the crowd thinned out Louis let out a small sigh and hid his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. The taller male grinned drunkenly and crouched to pull Louis onto his back, securing him by moving his legs around Harry’s body and arms around his neck.

“We should party more often ‘azza,” Louis yawned and his breath warmed the shell of Harry’s ear. Louis knew that he was falling asleep in a matter of minutes – seconds even – but at the same time his adrenaline hadn’t stopped rushing through his heart and brain and he already missed his high.

He clawed at Harry’s collarbone sleepily with a single powerless motion and whined.

“’mma need more coke H.”

“No,” Harry told him firmly, opening the door to an empty spare bedroom – this one empty with no nakedness – and dropped the smaller boy on top of the white patterned duvet.

“Once a night is enough.”

Louis grumbled something in response and rolled over to his side, arm hanging off his waist and eyelids fighting to let his eyes see something that wasn’t darkness or blinding lights or even Harry.

Music still boomed through the three-floored house but it was slightly, slightly weaker up here in the far east corner of the top floor. There was soft light in here – one of those old beige lamps with fluffy tassels hanging down and sending an orange glow around the room. Come to think of it, the whole room resembled a picture from a retirement home.

Bad lines such as “beautiful, breezy Colorado – home of the nature” flashed through Louis’ mind and he groaned, feeling empty now that the drug was making its way out of his system.

“Why aren’t you a cheerleader?” he questioned as Harry sat down by his side, the bed dipping down with his weight and his toes rubbing against the vapid pink carpeted floor. Harry’s hands travelled lightly over his hips and waist, up to his shoulder and then down again.

“We- we could be one of those hot American couples, y’know the footballer and- and the cheerleader.” He smiled and now his eyelids were glued shut, relaxing under Harry’s touch.

“’m not gonna be the girl Lou,” Harry said so quietly it was almost a whisper. A very sweet whisper at that, because everything this boy did was sweet, and sexy, and perfect, and glorious, and Louis was really too tired to be thinking of this. No one took note on the fact that Harry had ignored the claimed “relationship” the two would have to have in that case.

“This room makes me sick,” Louis chuckled and he was as good as sleeping already. Harry’s hand just continued to rub lightly at Louis’ tanned exposed skin.

“This room’s gonna make you sober as hell,” Harry murmured fondly and Louis just whimpered, curling up in a ball extremely close to the taller male, but not close enough to actually touch him.

It could have been five hours, it could have been five minutes, but just as Louis started to doze off for real Harry stood up from the bed and Louis tried to tell him to stay but instead of words out came a growl.

Harry spun around on his heels with a humorous expression and lips twitching into a smile.

“What was that?” he asked and laughed when Louis attempted a smooth flip but ended up dangerously close to tumble down and hit his nose – face first into the obnoxiously pink rug.

“Aw, c’mere love.” Harry quickly locked the door to the spare bedroom and then sat by Louis’ side, placing him in a perfect sleeping position on the bed so that he lay with head on his left arm and his right draped around his tummy.

He got up and searched the room for a blanket with his eyes, gaze falling on a wine red one hanging from a braided chair. Grabbing it and laying it softly on top of Louis’, then he sat down with his back facing the boy and looking out on the black night through the window in front of him.

The frame of it had paint starting to fall off and showed glimpses of the original colour and wood underneath the façade. Out there the moon was nowhere to be seen but a thousand stars sparkled above, decorating the sky and preparing it for when the sun would visit in a few hours from now. Trees and bushes were swaying gently in the midnight breeze together with flowers and any other kind of fauna in the wild.

It looked quite peaceful, and for a moment the thumping music was forgotten.

A hand fisted his shirt and he faced Louis who was peering up at him through one half-open eye, the one that had managed to crack a narrow space open to watch the boy. He let himself get pulled down to lay with Louis and their faces were only inches apart so he couldn’t resist the temptation to blow out a puff of air to hit the smaller boy’s nose.

“Thank you for not pointing out how I stink alcohol,” he blinked and Louis blinked back in reply.

“Maybe I will if you continue this thing where you blow stinking air into my face,” he said and Harry lifted his hand from the bed to hover for a second, hesitating, then reaching out to brush the back of it against Louis’ cheek.

His eyes were still so very red, and his pupils blown wide, but the blue in his irises were clear for Harry to explore with his jade ones. Unconsciously his hand had moved from Louis’ cheek to his chest, over his heart, and his pulse was so high that Harry thought his heart would jump out and bite him.

Lips, Harry briefly reflected. They were red bitten and was constantly being licked to become softer without success and his gaze wandered to the bruises on Louis’ neck. Big, unsymmetrical and almost an ultramarine shade.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.” Louis nodded and fumbled to cover his body in the crimson blanket.

“We shouldn’t fall asleep here.”

“I know.”

“You’re not gonna move, are you?”

“No.”

Harry sighed.

“But if you carry me…”

Louis grinned in his tired daze when Harry got up and lifted him into his arms.

“We’re not stealing stuff though,” Harry pointed out and they left the blanket on the bed.

“You’re hammered. How do you even think straight?” Louis pouted and nuzzled his face into his chest as they exited their safe room and ventured into the corridors, full of teens as usual.

“’m not straight,” Harry huffed, offended, and Louis didn’t even bother with him after that.

Downstairs it was calmer than before, and that told a lot when you were looking at the people grinding on the table scene and smashed bottles on the floor.

They spotted all of their friends in one big pile of bodies, all of them sitting in each other’s lap in one of the unoccupied armchairs which seemed to be one of the few non-stained and whole objects in the room at the moment.

Loud voices erupted from another room and the music immediately turned down to a low. Everyone – sober, high and hammered – turned to the noise and a shrill scream was heard follow by a string of colourful words.

Harry let Louis slide down from his back to wrap his arms around the slightly smaller boy in protection. His head had started to hurt and he was still too drunk to do anything except carry Louis – a task now abandoned in wait for understanding to come to them. They couldn’t hear the words being shouted, mostly because it was swearwords only, but also because-

There was an argument in the kitchen. Screaming, sobbing and _glass flying everywhere_ from the bottles being smashed to the counter and on the girl’s head, bits of it sticking to her long blonde hair.

“Shit,” Louis muttered, eyes blown open.

The girl who could not have been older than eighteen was currently lying on the floor and bleeding generously from her head, her hand desperately trying to cover the wound created from pieces of sharp glass. Her attacker’s shoulders were raising and sinking at a dangerous pace and his chest heaved as he continued to shout names at her.

A couple of guys went up to him to reason but he spun around quickly, half-shattered bottle in hand which hung loosely between his fingertips in the air. His gaze flickered between everyone in the room, briefly passing by Harry and Louis, but luckily enough avoiding the bleeding girl.

“Lou, please get out of here.” Louis could feel warm air against his ear and neck from when Harry spoke but he couldn’t move or care at the moment. There was _so much blood_ and it was _everywhere_ on the kitchen floor, like a small river from the mountains who had their place among the girl’s sticky curls.

“Shit,” he muttered again.

“You’re high, get out of here,” Harry said as he began pulling him backwards, but Louis firmly stood his ground. He wasn’t the one who’d had five more shots than he could handle.

The room had been relatively calm up until that point, but screams erupted when what was left of the bloody bottle hit one of the guys in the head followed by a punch and two perfectly placed kicks to the ribs.

People were frantically trying to make their way out of the kitchen and the house, but Louis still couldn’t move, and Harry towered like a giant shadow behind him, arms still resting around him safely.

The girl on the floor was trying to push herself up with two weak hands off the floor, but just as her weight rested on her knees the guy turned around again and kicked her.

And that’s how Louis found himself alone out in the hallway, people rushing past him to get out and Harry trying to deal with the drunk in the kitchen. The world slowed down in his eyes after that. There was a small crack where he could see through to the kitchen and while all his other senses were gone he saw how punches and words were swung at one another in there.

As the house emptied he was fighting to race forward into the kitchen were there were currently about seven people bleeding in several places each and violet marks painting their skin.

Not only were there blood and alcohol in there, no, it was _smoke._ Pure, disgusting cigarette smoke and it smelled of something that was definitely not supposed to be there. It was a haze in the kitchen that had cupboard doors hanging from their brackets, the bile from before tainting the brown wood, the stench from destruction all around him and adrenaline beginning to pump wildly through his body.

Then there was Liam and Harry together with someone Louis didn’t know the name of, blocking off the girl from his hateful grasp and each of them received blows to stomach, face and throat. He saw Niall help one of the girl’s friends to lift the now unconscious gal away from the chaos, and he met eyes with him briefly. Both equally terrified of what would happen next.

A blow to his eye. _That_ right there was most likely the reason that he was supposed to be outside, away from all of this shit. He faintly heard the sound of something like bone or another cupboard door breaking and then more screaming. It was like he could hear his heart slow down even though he knew that he’d been only hit once, and that square in the face. Maybe his nose was broken.

Someone grabbed his arm and hoisted him out in the hallway. Louis realized that his eyes were open, both of them, but he couldn’t see anything except for small purple and pink dancing lights, swirling around in the emptiness and smiling at him. Dancers with long hair that hid their lean bodies was sweeping past, made up out of thin neon lines and waving pieces of silk against him, brushing lightly against his bruised cheek.

What happened after that was unclear to him, but when the lights and dancers disappeared he was staring out through the hallway of the house, voices still echoing between the black and white walls. Body lifting him up, he stumbled down the stairs and entered the kitchen with a blurry vision just as the boy who’d started everything was kicked to the floor by a faceless person.

Louis only had half his sight since his left eye was swollen shut, so he’d had to been out for a few minutes.

“You’re gonna be okay then?” he registered a soft voice saying, followed by a few incoherent mumbles.

“Yeah, just go.”

Harry grabbed his arm and landed a short kiss on his nose and his brain really needed more time to figure out everything that had happened during this evening.

“C’mon babe, let’s get out of here,” Harry said and gently moved him out into the living room and from there to the hall where their clothes were hung and thrown on the floor. There had been so much shit in these past minutes – perhaps hours? – and things didn’t get any easier by Harry calling him “babe” for the first time. No, it did not.

Strolling out to the front lawn and feeling fresh slightly damp grass brushing against his jeans made Louis feel a little more sober than before – especially with the cold breeze blowing into his eyes and throwing his fringe in front of his eyes.

“I don’t care how drunk you are – you’re telling me all of this tomorrow,” Louis breathed, his eyes wide as ever from trying to see in the dark combined with the effects of the cocaine.

“I may not remember,” Harry pointed out and Louis clearly heard just how tired he was even if the two didn’t look at each other directly.

“I don’t care.”

“Hey-“

“Promise. Just- I need to know _what the hell_ went wrong in there, and I’m not gonna find out unless you tell me. Just promise me.”

Harry nodded and bit his lip mindlessly as he glanced up into the star scattered sky.

“Of course. Promise.”

Louis breathed in and out deeply and then he finally allowed his body to relax, shoulders falling and his head facing the ground, pathetically trying to busy his mind by counting invisible straws of grass buried in the deep brown earth under his feet.

Tiny goose bumps decorated his arms and a faint thought passing by reminded him that his jacket was still in the house. No way in hell that he was going back there.

“Your mum’s gonna flip when she sees you,” Harry said with the right corner of his lips quirked up.

“I just figured I’d crash at your place,” Louis shrugged and Harry’s slid an arm around his shoulder. Apparently this was the night to forget bringing outdoor clothing with you.

“Well, Lou,” Harry smiled and leaned down casually to bump noses with the older boy,” I’m glad we have the same way of thinking, then.”

Louis could only grin.

“You only want me to nurse your hangover in the morning, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, but Harry answered anyway with a laugh.

“I’d never do that to you, love.”

They had crossed the lawn and ventured out on the street, passing many still-standing cars and houses in the suburb where lights were turned off as people who’d stayed up to the early hours of the morning went to bed.

Harry’s arm continued to lie around his shoulders, but he didn’t mind it. Not at all.

When the sky started lighting up in green and yellow Louis groaned and buried his face in Harry’s side, the taller guiding them safely up the stairs to his house. Louis heard keys being twisted in the lock and then they were inside in the warmth.

He was so fucking tired and worn-out, and he shivered in pure physical weakness. If someone were to poke at him he’d fall straight to the floor alike a statue you pushed over.

“D’you want some tea?” Harry yawned and a loud laugh slipped out from Louis’ lips without much resistance.

“Tea?” He shook his head with a wide smile. “My, my. Aren’t you weird. No – it was very thoughtful of you, but if I don’t get to lie down in five minutes I’m gonna drop to the floor, and I’d prefer to be draped with you in your bed.”

Harry stared at him for a moment as if he couldn’t figure out why tea was such a horrible and wrong-timed suggestion, and while he did so his lips parted and he cocked his head.

Louis dragged his now bare feet over the light hallway floor and leaned Harry back against the wall, standing up to kiss him. Well, kissing was probably what it was supposed to have been, but both were too exhausted so it was more “lips sliding together and then some cuddling”.

Bright fiery yellow morning light shone through the windows and landed on the opening to the kitchen and out in the hall, weakly reflecting up on them where Louis stood in Harry’s arms, practically sleeping already.

“If you drool on my shirt I’ll leave you here,” Harry mumbled his threat and Louis merely huffed, pressing his head and nose further into the fabric to breathe him in. His fingers slowly and effortlessly gripped the back of Harry’s sweater and Harry’s own treaded caringly through Louis’ messed-up hair.

“How d’you manage?” he whispered hoarsely and Louis was forced to gaze up on him, eyelids drooping constantly.

“Huh?” He was afraid he’d missed something the taller boy said, but he was pretty damn sure that it was not the case this time around.

“You’re so cute,” Harry chuckled and bumped noses with him once more. Louis leaned out from his embrace to gaze at himself in the hallway full-body mirror.

“Harry,” he said seriously, “I’ve been doing coke pretty much all night long, my eye is blue and swollen and red – let’s not even talk about my hair – and I’m so incredibly close to throw up all over you and your clothes, and you call me _that_?”

That seemed to make Harry think for a moment, but barely a second had passed before he leaned down and kissed Louis gently.

“Indeed,” he hummed, “and I hope you know that this isn’t the shots speaking.”

“What was in those shots anyway?” Louis wondered and Harry laughed, pulling the boy to his chest once more. He fit there. It was nice. This was just the way it was.

It was the way Harry carried Louis up the airy stairs to his bedroom when Louis had fallen asleep and the way Harry only removed his socks so he wouldn’t get too warm in his sleep. It was the way Louis curled up against Harry’s side when he was far away dreaming and how Harry sealed him off to the world with his arms. It was the way it came natural for them to protect one another as brothers and more, and it was most definitely the way the two stayed that way until morning in a bubble of warmth and safety.

And what was love, anyway?

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

 

Harry’s room was beautiful, but even more so in the mid-summer morning light. The wallpaper was a clean beige one, much like the long curtains pooling down on the floor by the one window in the room. The small details, such as the soft lines on his pale desk and the swirls of paint on the wood of the chair in front of it, were in a chocolate brown colour.

Come to think of it, Harry’s room was basically just like being inside a chocolate ice-cream cupcake with small star-shaped sprinkles on top – if one were to put a name on it.

“Harry,” Louis drawled and he was positive that he had in fact drooled a bit on Harry’s sweater in his sleep.

“Whaaat?” Harry moaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. Neither of them were morning people, and after last night Louis sure wasn’t a night person either.

“Turn off your _fucking alarm or I’ll slap you_.”

Harry scowled and then the embarrassing realization that – yes – Thrift Shop was playing on full volume and it was about eight o’clock hit him full force.

“Fuck,” he cussed and fumbled with his phone that lay on the night stand. He had his eyes closed and his fingers travelled over the cool surface before finally turning the music off.

Louis blinked his blurry eyes until he saw somewhat clearly, and he breathed in the newborn morning, relishing in the fact that he was still in Harry’s arms and he completely ignored the fact that he was burning up with the heat in the room and his clothes and _Harry_ on top of everything.

“I’ll never understand why you picked that song,” he said mindlessly and Harry settled down again in the duvet and his feet shuffled away the blanket by their feet so it fell to the floor with a soft thud.

“ _It gets me up and going_ ,” Louis air-quoted and Harry snorted, letting his palm fall to Louis’ forehead in a very powerless slap.

“Shut it,” he grumbled and as if to prove his point he moved Louis flush against his chest and let his head in the crook of Harry’s neck.

“Oh no, no,” Louis smirked and reached over the taller boy to snatch his phone and unlock it with the old code Harry couldn’t bother to change even after Louis spotted the combination one school afternoon, “now it’s my turn.”

Harry only groaned again and lifted a pillow to drop on top of his head, like earplugs for his entire face.

Louis soon enough decided to show the hung-over boy some sympathy and the soft tones of Chopin started playing, floating out in the cream coloured bedroom and attempted to pull Harry up from under the pillow.

“Oh come here you big bear,” Louis huffed and removed it from his face. Harry scowled but didn’t open his eyes, and he was just about to hide in the mattress when Louis curled into his side again – the only thing that seemed to alert the curly in times like this.

“I’m not a morning person,” Harry breathed out and slowly started running his fingers through Louis’ light hair.

“Who is?”

“I could name a few-“

“Just be quiet.”

“Oki-doki.”

Sometime later Louis’ fingers had also found their way up in Harry’s hair and were now massaging small circles into his friend’s scalp.

“Did you threaten to _slap me_ before, love?” Harry suddenly chuckled and Louis didn’t even try to act offended. The hint of affection in Harry’s voice was too major to go unnoticed.

“It may not hurt, but yes, yes I would have slapped you,” he muttered out, and without thinking this time he leaned up to place a small kiss on Harry’s lips.

“That reminds me, actually.”

Harry sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling Louis up as well to relax his head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around the older boy as usual.

“I think I owe you to tell what happened yesterday, yeah?”

Louis shrugged because he really wasn’t in the mood to re-live last night’s events from Harry’s point of view, but then nodded and sighed, shuffling around to get comfortable and then felt his body go slightly limp by Harry’s side.

“So, story time,” Harry said with not _too much_ fake enthusiasm and clasped his hands together, rubbing them a second and then letting his fingers curl in a perfect hand-hold with Louis’.

“Alright, so about seven pm we arrive to the location one way or another, yes? And people are sober by then, but as we all know things go to hell faster than you can say ‘eggs’, and when everybody started drinking the music got turned up, and I think that’s also when the whole ‘grinding-on-tables-with-my-mates’ thing began, and…”

Louis closed his eyes as he listened to Harry speak, wanting to jump in time to the fight in the kitchen but the need to hear Harry’s voice was too strong, and who could blame him really?

The sunlight pierced through the glass window and landed on the floor in front of the bed the two sat in, the floor turning sunflower yellow and tiny stands of hair and loosened threads from fabric floated around in the light together with a not too small amount of dust, perhaps a drosophila or two buzzing around, playing chase.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Harry scowled and nudged Louis’ head, his blue eyes slowly opening to stare into Harry’s jade ones a mere from his own.

“’m not, just resting my eyes,” Louis said as he blushed involuntarily.

“I was just getting to the fighting scene so you may want to listen now.”

“Okay, hit me.”

“Alright,” Harry began again, and this time the two had sunken down among the many pillows existing in his bed.

“The first thing that happened after we got downstairs, as you may remember, was the screaming and then that guy smashed a bottle to her head-“

“You know their names?” Louis asked and harry shook his head.

“No, sorry Lou.”

“Sorry for interrupting,” he said quietly as he gazed out the window on the green leaves filling up the view.

“Then,” Harry resumed with a kiss to Louis’ cheek, “I think he accused her of cheating? Which I heard that she had not, so obviously that guy was high or drunk – not really surprising but yeah. So, he goes all Rambo and tries to hurt her in what’s the best way possible, which means that he smashes a bottle to her head.”

He started moving his hands to illustrate, imagining the situation once more.

“The glass cuts a wound in her head open and she stays lying there as he abuses her.” He took a brief break to control the burst of anger surging through him. “And then we saw those guys trying to calm him down, which all went to hell really quickly, and after that you went out and back in again and got hit.”

He kissed Louis’ cheek one more time, careful of his still swollen eye.

“I think Liam dragged you out into the hallway and then we just kinds used joined forces to bring him down. Troy called the cops who arrived just about a minute after you and I left, I think, and just before we fell asleep yesterday I got a text from him and _he had a gun on him_. A fucking gun Louis! He could’ve killed us all, yet he didn’t even bring it forward!”

Harry watched Louis who still looked out the window, his eyes wide but unmoving.

“We should be thankful,” Louis whispered.

“It’s so low,” Harry shook his head as if he hadn’t even heard Louis speak up, “it’s so low to hurt another human being, especially over an illusion. I just-“ He hid his face in his hands and Louis stopped himself from reaching up to massage his tense shoulders.

“I wanted to snap his neck,” Harry said quietly. “I didn’t even know the girl, and that’s what scares me.”

“It’s fine,” Louis attempted and was about to reach out for him when his head snapped around.

“No, it’s-“

“It’s fine,” Louis said again and Harry simply stared at him. “It’s fine. You’re fine. She’s fine. We’re all fucking fine, alright? Don’t- don’t get angry now – it’s early and we’re both tired and you’re hung-over and half my face is a bruise and just don’t. It’s fine.”

Harry nodded slowly and brushed his thumb against Louis’ swollen eye.

“Sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up, let’s just drop it for now,” Louis pleaded and Harry froze for a moment.

“Sorry.”

“You’re hopeless,” Louis mumbled but his words lost its power as Harry ducked down, planting a kiss on the giant bruise that covered half of his face. His hand trailed up Louis’ arm with feather light touches and Louis let himself lean back in the pillows, Harry moving over to straddle him carefully.

“Jesus Haz, I’m not gonna break,” he grinned and Harry gripped him a bit harder, transferring the kisses from the skin around his eye to his lips and he held each of Louis’ arms, lifting them up around his own neck as he leaned over the boy.

Louis couldn’t resist the temptation to open his eyes during the kiss just to see how blissful Harry looked, completely lost in his senses and Louis and how even though he was the taller one he was sat in Louis’ lap.

Hands travelled up to grip Harry’s hair softly when Louis closed his eyes again, losing himself in Harry’s lovely touch and suddenly the nearly suffocating heat in the room was more bearable.

Louis grinned again as he started pushing Harry to the side, eventually making the two of them roll over with very manly giggles and staring into each other’s eyes.

The taller stole another kiss from him and Louis quickly joined their lips after that, trying to do everything in his power to memorize the taste and texture of Harry’s lips but it was hard when they were both smiling like idiots.

The morning light had moved and now shone on their bare feet and clothes legs which were casually entwined with each other, hands making small touches everywhere on their bodies but only for short moments before moving before they were moving.

 _It isn’t love,_ Louis told himself subconsciously as he dared to lick Harry’s lips apart while breathing unsteady breaths, fingertips dancing over Harry’s cheek with light touches. He felt Harry’s hands slide up to his neck and the back of his head, gently tugging him down for more access to his mouth and everything was so _soft_ and _careful_ and _hot_ that Louis just wanted to cry.

That’s what he nearly did when their lips parted and the two of them just took deep breaths, closed eyes but still hearing each other clearly. And so Harry’s curious tongue was swiping across his parted lips again and he could really _breathe_ even though his air intake was extremely poor.

He nearly laughed when a whimper slipped past Harry’s lips but he couldn’t bother to do so and interrupt whatever was going on at the moment. Grin back on his face he realized to his disappointment that they had to break away soon or they’d get far too carried away.

But he didn’t want to break away. He didn’t mind getting carried away alike many times before.

_It isn’t love._

But the burning something in Harry’s eyes when they parted and the taller boy caressed his cheek could sure as hell resemble some kind of love on some level.

“You look nice today,” said Louis quietly and if being a morning person made him see Harry’ childish smile every hour of every day, then Louis was definitely a morning person.

“I could say the same about you,” he breathed out and hesitated for a moment before seeing to think ‘what the hell’ and then they were kissing again, if only for a short while.

Louis removed himself from on top of Harry and sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and nose, licking his lips to check if Harry had disappeared from them.

He hadn’t. Not in that gap of two seconds.

“Can you call Liam and Niall and thank them for yesterday?” Harry hummed and moved after him to the edge, and Louis should have noticed how Harry’s hand cupped his entire cheek but he didn’t. Not when he could look happily into Harry’s eyes and feel his pulse underneath his fingertips and the way his chest rose when he breathed.

“Of course,” he whispered and Harry nodded, standing up to stretch.

“Then I’ll go down and make breakfast while you do that. ‘s too late to go back to sleep anyway.”

“I suppose it is,” Louis chuckled and averted his gaze to the floorboards, lips comfortably bitten from Harry.

“Sorry about my morning breath,” Harry apologized as he made his way to the door, lingering for a few seconds.

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis assured him and he smiled gently, turning and walking down the stairs with light, cheery steps.

Louis watched the empty doorway for a while, hearing Harry shuffling around downstairs, picking with pans and milk cartons, then he rolled over the bed and snatched Harry’s phone. He dragged his body up in a position where he was leaning against the headboard and with a pillow comfortably behind his head he started scrolling through Harry’s contacts until he reached Liam.

He hesitated for a moment, then hit the call button and held the phone to his ear, hearing the signals going forth and retreating his focus to just outside Harry’s window where there was a family of light blur birds zooming by, settling in the giant tree next to the house.

“Harry?”

Louis took a moment to realize where the voice came from and then fell down onto his stomach with a huff.

“Hey Liam, Louis here,” he spoke but was cut off before he could continue.

“You didn’t…”

Louis scowled then barked out a laugh, rolling onto his back and tracing patterns with his gaze in the ceiling.

“No, it’s cool,” he grinned just as Harry began to scramble the eggs for their breakfast. Louis briefly glanced at the clock on the night stand that showed _9.03_. “No, he just wanted to protect me from- shit!”

Calling his mother and tell her that he was safe had slipped his thoughts completely.

“Can I meet this ‘Shit’, Lou? Is he dangerous? Should I call the police?”

“Oh shut up,” Louis grumbled and heard a light chuckle at the other end of the line, “He was offering me to stay the night because my mum wouldn’t flip the house up-side-down when she saw me. That’s it. No funky time, don’t worry.”

“Why would _I_ worry?” Liam huffed, “and please don’t call it ‘funky time’ again.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t,” Liam pleaded and Louis grinned again, sitting up to stretch his spine.

“Oh yeah, I was actually calling on Harry’s behalf – and mine too I suppose – to thank you for yesterday. Um, did Harry tell you that the guy-“

“Had a gun?” Liam interrupted and Louis nodded despite the fact that they were connected through waves in the air and Liam couldn’t actually see him. “Yeah, I got a text last night, scared the shit out of me.”

“Me too,” Louis sighed, “I just- thank you for being there last night. Dealing with everything.”

“Well, I wasn’t the only one,” Liam pointed out and a small smile spread across Louis’ lips, the sun now invading the whole room with fresh light and new heat.

“Always so modest, Payne.” Louis’ tone was light, much lighter than he felt when thinking back to how he’d received his bruise. And the girl…

“How’s your eye?” Liam spoke up suddenly, as if he’d been reading Louis’ thoughts, and the blue-eyed nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Honestly or the ‘I’m good’?” he asked.

“Honestly,” Liam quickly replied.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Louis said, “but, I mean, could be worse. I’m grateful for not having my whole face smashed in or whatever.”

“Yeah. You get well now, alright?”

“Alright,” Louis confirmed and remembered that he still had to call Niall, “I’ll talk to you later then?”

“Bye Lou.”

“Bye. Thanks, again.”

“No problem,” Liam chuckled, and then they hung up.

Louis sat lost in his thoughts for a moment, staring up at the small bubbles in the ceiling created by reflecting light from the sun, faint noises from Harry cooking and humming downstairs floating up to his ears, caressing his skin.

“Right,” he said to himself and tore his eyes down to the phone again, dialling the next number.

“If this is another of your rants then I’m hanging up,” Niall was quick to say.

“Hey Niall.”

“Lou?” he asked.

“That’s me,” he smiled and got up to pace around in the room, letting his fingertips slide softly over the edge of a forgotten coffee cup on the firm desk, marks of the brown liquid at the bottom of it.

“So, you’re gonna explain to me why you’re using Harry’s phone? Had fun last night, eh?”

“Yes, I did have very fun last night,” Louis nodded, “he’s down making breakfast right this moment.”

“Jesus Lou,” Niall laughed and it sounded like he pulled out a chair to slide down on, “how was it? No details, though, for all ours sake.”

“I drooled on his sweater.”

“That’s- what?”

“We stood in the hallway and I’m fairly sure I drooled on his sweater,” Louis repeated and now the grin had grown permanent on his lips, “then I woke up in bed. Nice, isn’t it?”

“I…” Niall wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that statement.

“Anyway,” Louis cut himself short this time, seeing as the time had ticked away to _9.15_ already, “thank you for yesterday. In the kitchen…”

“Oh, no worries mate,” Niall assured him, “I’m just happy I didn’t fuck everything up.”

“Like you could,” Louis snorted, “I’m the one who showed up and passed out two seconds later. Very helpful.”

“About that, how’s the bruise treating ya?”

“Better than last night,” Louis admitted and his hand unconsciously made its way to brush over his eye, “also I want to apologize for, well. I’m sorry for being high, I guess.”

Niall was silent, waiting for Louis’ full apology, which he received later with a sigh from the older boy.

“I don’t- it wasn’t like it was _planned_ , I hope you know that. I didn’t know there’d be…” he trailed off and held his breath, impatient for his friend to just _say something already_.

“I don’t really care what you do Louis, just stay away from me when you’re high. It may not matter to you, but it fucking hurts seeing you that way.”

Louis opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“Take care Lou.” And then there was a beeping on the other side.

He slowly put away the phone, placing it flat on the night stand like before, and then kind of stood there for a moment without moving. As stupid as it may sound, he’d never thought about what it would be like for people who cared about him to see him in such a condition. Harry had called him _cute_. But then again, Harry was hammered – a boy with poor judgement and blurry vision.

Louis took a look at himself and immediately scrunched his nose at the smell and look of his clothes. He dropped the shirt he was wearing to the floor and searched Harry’s closet for any piece of clothing that fit his size, settling on an oversized sweater because _oversized sweaters._

His mood was lifted when his nose picked up the scent of food and he once again listened to his friend’s humming and occasionally singing where he probably swirled around in the kitchen. He looked _very_ good in an apron.

Feet padded down the stairs to the hall where they’d been kissing early this morning and Louis realized that he’d barely gotten three hours worth of sleep. Yet here he was – awake and fully functioning, although _fully_ may have been exaggerating.

He played with the hems of the sweater he was wearing when he entered the kitchen, spotting Harry as expected, doing a bit of everything at the same time. Juice, milk, tea, bacon, eggs, toast, sandwiches – pretty much all and more lay on the table and the sink and counter where Harry currently stood.

Louis snuck forward and snaked his arms around Harry’s waist, the taller boy turning his head to the side to grin down at him and placing a kiss in his hair before focusing on the food again.

“A cup of tea had been fine,” Louis mumbled into the fabric of Harry’s shoulder, “not that I don’t appreciate your effort, but, y’know, ‘m not that picky.”

“I know you aren’t,” Harry replied, flipping an egg and reaching up to take out two mugs, “I just wanted to make something nice for you.”

“You’ve already done that by opening your door for me.”

“I can’t do enough for you.”

It was strange, Louis noted, the way the two acted around each other. They were friends. Really, really good friends who happened to kiss sometimes.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, but he doubted that Harry had heard him at all.

“So, choose something to drink and eat and go sit. I’ll bring everything in a sec.”

Louis started removing himself from around Harry’s body but then froze.

“No, let me help,” he protested.

“Lou, you’re the guest – go sit. I can handle this.”

“Harry-“

Louis’ eyes went wide open as Harry leaned down and stole a sweet kiss from his lips, dragging Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth on the way back.

“Sit,” Harry told him, now with a softer tone, and Louis couldn’t do other than to comply.

The taller boy finished the last details, washing his hands in the sink and ruffling his curls a bit before carrying over tree plates each with more than Louis figured sane to eat this early and a few glasses in the other hand, setting them down and going another round to pick up the components to the tea and the milk and juice.

“I have soda if you want?” Harry offered and Louis almost laughed.

“It’s fine Harry. I’m good.”

Harry scowled at him but turned to the food when his stomach growled.

The two ate in silence, sipping juice and tea in the calm with faint sunshine seeping through the window and through the thin white curtain covering up the glass. Harry had said that he was supposed to clean it while his mother and sister were away skiing in France, but the spots of bird poop, small dying insects and dust and earth on it told Louis that the younger boy had no intention of doing so until the absolute last minute before the women of the house returned.

It wasn’t that hard, annoying and frightening silence that could occur before oral presentations, in a crowded elevator with the cliché music playing on low volume, or when you had just spilled a huge secret. This was one of those warm, comfortable ones where you didn’t _need_ to say anything, so when they catched the other’s gaze they smiled softly and then resumed eating or glancing out the window.

“Summer’s over in three weeks,” Harry said when they’d both finished their breakfast a long time ago and waited for the other boy to start up a new conversation.

“Yeah,” Louis sighed and turned to look at his curly haired friend who sat with his chin and mouth hidden in his palm, staring out onto the cars passing by and cyclists crossing the street dangerously close to have their bike flipped by the larger vehicles.

He looked handsome like that, Louis thought – eyebrows just slightly furrowed and eyes a soft faded green, skin so perfect and smooth and it was too much for Louis to take in this morning. Mornings should be relaxing, and if Harry had any flaws Louis would have been able to relax, but the thing was that he didn’t, and Louis hated to admit it but he was growing more and more self-conscious the more he watched the seventeen year old beauty.

“I thought I would have done _something_ over the break but apparently not,” Harry continued in a quiet mumble, something Louis somehow managed to catch anyway. “Not, like, accomplish anything, if that makes sense. Just get up and explore or whatever.”

Harry finally looked at Louis and moved his hands to his lap, lips turning back from a light beige to pink when the pressure was removed.

“Well, you got pissed,” Louis offered and that forced a chuckle out of the taller boy who then seemed to get an idea sparked in his head, looking at Louis pleadingly.

Louis raised his eyebrow in confusion but then realized what he meant and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Harry pouted and his shoulders slumped, “why not? You do it all the time – can’t be that bad.”

“Harry,” Louis told him firmly, trying to narrow his eyes as he moved to rest his elbows on the table, “it is bad. It’s really fucking bad. It’s _deadly_. Yeah, I do it a lot, and yeah, it feels good as fuck, but it destroys you sooner or later-“

“Why’d you start then?” Harry snapped and Louis simply closed his eyes and shook his head as if he was speaking to a little kid.

“I don’t know,” he said sincerely, “I don’t fucking know, I was stupid and drunk and it was _there_ and I seized the moment, got high, and it was the best and worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Besides, even if I somehow knew where to find it, or heroin, or marijuana, and could afford it, I sure as hell wouldn’t give it to you.”

“Because I’m younger than you, ‘s that it? Because you see me as a baby?”

“’s what you think, isn’t it?” Louis spat, “that I look at you like this fucking child who can’t even make his way to school on his own? Fuck Harry. I did wrong that night, and I fucked up big time, and I won’t let you do that to yourself. I care too much about you, okay? You can’t just go and kill yourself – might as well give you a gun in that case!”

That shut Harry up for at least a minute and Louis rubbed his eyes.

“I’ll stop,” Louis muttered out. It wasn’t like he was addicted anyway, right?

“What?” Harry asked, still a sharp edge to his tone.

“I said I’ll stop.”

“’s not that easy though, is it?”

Harry just sounded sad now, bitter, even, and Louis briefly wondered if Harry had ever seen him high when sober. The thought hurt more than he’d thought possible.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Please try.” Harry looked up and met Louis’ gaze, holding it with such brutal honesty that a tear nearly slipped out of the older male’s eye.

“Of course,” he nodded, and he just wanted to cuddle the boy in front of him and maybe kiss him a little bit.

“Thank you,” Harry said lowly, blinked.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

 

A few hours later – after Louis had called his mum and informing her of his location and being told that he could stay there as long as he wanted since _Anne was home,_ which she wasn’t – the two boys were cuddled up in the couch, the room in the kind of dark you got when sealing off every window in the living room in the middle of the summer (which proved to be a kind of more shadowed version of the room than before) and watching a movie picked randomly.

Harry had his legs slung up in Louis’ lap and he was biting his thumbnail distractedly, eyes wide as he was pulled into the movie, Louis unaware of the actions his own hand made as he stroke Harry’s thigh and calf slowly. Louis reached over to the bowl of candy to his left which Harry had fished out of the deepest parts of a cupboard in the kitchen, so the majority of everything in the bowl was like good-tasting rubber bands with salt and sugar on them.

Without breaking his eye-contact with the movie he dropped a few different coloured rats in Harry’s hair and continued to chew on the small rectangular piece of chocolate in his mouth.

Harry mumbled something inaudible and felt around in his hair for the rats, snatching one and bringing it to his lips. Before he did anything he turned his upper body to face Louis who was forced to look down on him.

“Wanna share?” he asked with the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Louis only shrugged and waited for Harry to snap it in two but the taller boy just placed the edge of the candy between his teeth, all while maintaining Louis’ gaze. When Louis realized what Harry meant by sharing he could only try to ignore the acrobatic stunts his heart did and lean down to bite at the other end of it, tugging it gently and then the two were kissing.

Harry’s hand lazily hung on the back of Louis’ neck while Louis’ went down to cup Harry’s cheek, feeling giddy when he could taste the sweetness of sugar and salt on the younger boy’s lips and a bit of the soda they were drinking.

And sure, this wasn’t planned when they sunk down in the coffee-scum coloured couch to watch a movie they’d forget in less than a month, but it was nice.

Shivers passed through Louis when their lips parted and joined slowly and with his eyes closed he couldn’t see the thin fragile trail of spit between their mouths. He could feel Harry smile though, and that was enough for Louis to mirror him.

Soon enough they were both grinning and their kisses grew shorter and more frequent, hands sliding down each other’s bodies and the only thing separating those touches from tickling was that the whole palm was in contact with the skin, not only the fingertips.

When Harry pulled back for a moment, pecking Louis’ lips again, and scooting backwards on the couch so that he was leaning against the armrest, he looked at Louis as if awaiting his next move, something Louis wasn’t quite sure about.

He could wrap his arm around the boy and they could cuddle sleepily in the growing darkness of the room, TV the only exception of light, or he could crawl over to him and they could have heated snogging until dusk and night came, or he could continue to sit there in the sofa, staring at his friend with shiny lips equal to Harry’s.

For once in his life Louis decided to take a chance.

He moved over to Harry on all fours and hesitated for the fraction of a second, breathing in and out steadily, and then he leaned down to peck Harry’s lips again. The younger one smiled softly again and instantly his hands were up and tugging at Louis’ hair that should have been washed about a day or two ago. A giggle slipped out of his mouth and Louis groaned. Could he _not_?

Remembering that it was actually Harry who had initiated the kiss Louis angled his head better and let his tongue slide in between Harry’s parted lips, hands starting to fist the fabric of the younger male’s shirt.

Not once did it fully occur to him that he was kissing his friend, well, snogging his best friend, but that part didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. It didn’t seem to bother Harry either, the way he was purring and letting low, eager moans out of his mouth and into Louis’.

It was nice kissing Harry. Very nice.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

 

When the sun was just above the horizon they had made it into the kitchen, pacing back and forth while checking drawers and cupboards after something to eat.

“No,” Harry told him for the forth time that evening.

“Yes,” Louis nodded.

“Muffins,” was all Harry said and Louis nodded again, smiling despite the fact that he was losing the argument.

“First of all: no,” Harry began as he walked around Louis and the table, “you can’t eat muffins to dinner, especially since all we’ve eaten today is candy and those crappy scrambled eggs-“

“I thought they were magnificent,” Louis cut in.

“- second of all: this not a book babe, and it’s not good for teeth or health.”

“Since when were you focused on your health?” Louis chuckled and Harry stopped pacing as he stood before the boy.

“Since five minutes ago,” Harry answered and Louis reached out to punch his arm but he was quick enough to jump away.

“Third,” Harry laughed as Louis started chasing him around the kitchen, gripping the table in the sharp turns, socks sliding against the floor following Harry’s bare feet, “you’ll get hungry, and,” he stopped himself to duck under Louis and race up the stairs, steps thundering while he ran, “and what makes you think that I,” he catched his breath, taking off over the couch to downstairs again, “would want to make muffins at this hour for you to stuff your face with?”

They stood on different sides of the kitchen table again, Harry with a playful smile at the corner of his mouth and Louis with his irises a dark blue shade, like deep saltwater.

“I’ll help you,” Louis told him, holding his gaze like a lifeline, “just guide me and I’ll do all the work.”

“Right,” Harry scoffed but didn’t look away, still panting lightly from the run.

“Try me,” Louis smiled.

And so about ten minutes later Harry stood right behind Louis, doing everything in his power to make successful muffins (which was just him guiding Louis’ hands with his own) and told him what to do and when to do it with a voice Louis figured was audible silk for his ears. It didn’t help that his friend was slightly taller than him and standing pressed against his back, whispering the words into his ear and Louis just _knew_ that Harry was smiling while doing so.

It proved to both easier and more problematic than the two had thought at first, flour spilling over their clothes – _we don’t need aprons, right?_ – and one egg or two rolling over the counter to smash to the floor with an unforgettable _crack_ followed by splutter shooting up on Louis’ leg and over Harry’s feet.

They had then been forced to take a smaller break to clear up the mess on the floor and that’s when they’d started rubbing flour into each other’s faces, painting their cheeks ghostly white and hollow-looking and Harry looked like an ice-princess with his almost glittery snow lashes – something Louis pointed out in between laughter.

So, after the cleaning up had failed Louis had resumed trying to understand what in the hell he was doing and smoothly wiping his fingers clean of the flour. Harry had other things in mind though, running into the living room to snatch his iPhone and plugging it into the stereo, booming out random music that bounced off every wall in the house.

He’d come skipping into the kitchen and yanking Louis by his hand out onto the kitchen floor, swirling him around and before Louis knew it they were dancing. Something told him that they should be focusing on the muffins they were making, but the way Harry smiled and the spark in his eyes, luring Louis into the crazy movements he was demonstrating on the egg-stained kitchen floor, all of that made him irresistible and Louis couldn’t tell him no.

Dancing was much easier and more fun than making muffins, Louis decided when The Vaccines started flowing through his veins like blood and Harry’s smile only grew wider and wider as the time ticked away.

Somehow they still managed the muffins in between all the dancing and when darkness started to fall outside, long shadows thinning out to become one over the previously golden fields and lawns, they had lit some candles in various places of the kitchen. In the window, on the table, in between cookbooks Harry refused to admit that he was the owner of, on top of cupboards, and they trailed into the living room and a few ones safely behind glass in the hall.

The kitchen was glowing from lack of light and the nearly hundred candles in there, wax running down slowly onto the small iron mugs and plates they stood on – they had scrambled around and used everything they found to prevent the house from burning down.

Music was now playing at a little lower volume, Louis purposely picking slow songs because he couldn’t take the fast tempo anymore and he just really wanted to cuddle up in Harry’s arms with all the candles around them and eat the god-damn muffins they’d spent hours (dancing included) making.

Flour still on them they sat down on the floor of all places, one muffin each in hand, and leaned against the counter, glancing at each other before taking a bite.

“This is what dinner’s supposed to taste like,” Louis hummed and soon half of the pastry was gone.

“We could just have made noodles or something,” Harry shrugged but ate nonetheless at the same pace as Louis. An afternoon full of kissing on the couch and dancing in the kitchen took its toll and they were both extremely tired.

Harry hadn’t showed any clear signs of his hangover, just like Louis hadn’t acted like he’d been high as the Empire State hours prior.

“Yeah but where lies the fun in that?” Louis looked at him with a grin and a piece of chocolate in the corner of his mouth, something Harry was determined to not let pass, to slip through his fingers that easily.

“You have a bit of…” Harry trailed off, motioning to his lips and Louis instantly went to the wrong side with his hand, rubbing as if it would help to brush away the nonexistent chocolate that looked so deliciously tempting.

He cocked his head, hand going up to instinctively cup Louis’ cheek as his lips gently brushed his friend’s, reaching out part of his tongue to capture the muffin and then swallowing, ever so slowly moving back to his original position.

“Fuck,” Louis sighed and watched him wide-eyed, hands tightening to not touch his own lips where Harry’s had been a few seconds ago.

“You made a great job with the muffins,” Harry breathed and if Louis hadn’t been so awfully star struck then maybe he would have laughed at that.

“t’was mostly you though,” Louis pointed out and Harry only mumbled something in reply, tearing his gaze away from Louis and down to the floor, nibbling the melted chocolate on top of his half-eaten muffin.

And Louis just wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked, teeth grazing the pastry and his lips curling and straightening, eyes flickering across the floorboards to still on the spot of egg and then move to the table legs in front of him, how the seemingly million candles reflected a flame in his faded irises and he blinked so slowly, body slightly mashed together against the counter and his right arm wrapped around his knees, his curls falling past his forehead to stick to his lashes, following them up and down when he blinked, and he was so beautiful.

So Louis told him.

Harry stopped chewing for a second, swallowing as if it’d been a five foot long lump of rice in his throat and then turned to Louis, confusion and warmth floating around in his eyes. His lips parted to speak but closed after a while and he smiled. That was all Louis needed, shifting his weight to drop his head onto Harry’s shoulder and bigger hands going up to brush through his hair.

“You’re really pretty Lou,” Harry mused and a part of Louis wanted to take offence to that – _pretty_ – but after some quick re-thinking he smiled as well, nuzzling his nose into Harry’s bare skin and praying that he wouldn’t drool this time.

“Did I drool on your sweater last night?” He had to ask.

“No,” Harry said quietly, “but you did this morning.”

“Sorry,” Louis said faintly without really meaning it.

“I think its fine.” Louis sensed that the taller boy was supposed to continue but he made no attempt to do so, just resumed eating and reaching up to grab a glass of water on the counter behind and over his head.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Louis asked and listened to Harry swallowing, putting the glass beside him and the spot of eggs that had started to get sucked into the floorboards.

“I was kinda counting on you to, so,” Harry shrugged and the room turned silent again. And maybe Louis thought for a brief second what it’d be like to live with Harry. Maybe.

“We should go to bed,” Harry stated when half of the candles had almost burnt down fully.

Louis hummed but didn’t put in any effort to move upstairs, or into the living room to sleep on the couch, what did he know?

“Where do I-“

“Wherever you want,” Harry replied quickly and pulled Louis to his feet, the only confirmation lay in Louis’ eyes for Harry to gently tug him upstairs after blowing out the many, many candles. Louis let himself drop onto his back on top of the duvet with his arms over his head and stare up at ceiling, trying to ignore the fact that Harry was undressing in front of him, toothbrush hanging halfway out of his mouth.

“I have one you can borrow,” Harry’s muffled voice came and then Louis felt a long thin object being let down on his stomach – a yellow toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste beside him.

“Thanks.” He sat up and mirrored Harry’s movements, brushing his teeth a little bit slower than the boy who was currently in only his underwear in front of Louis. Not only mornings were difficult with Harry and his body, but nights as well.

Despite the time being just after ten pm the two’s eyelids were falling down and blocking their vision.

When Louis got back from spitting in the bathroom sink he found Harry above the duvet, hands clasped together on his chest and staring at Louis with something the shorter boy wasn’t sure he’d like to know.

“Hi,” he whispered, cocking his head a bit as he placed himself at the edge of the bed, starting undressing as well because _fuck_ it would be warm in the morning if he slept with clothes on.

“Hi,” Harry breathed and Louis crawled into bed with him, hiding under the duvet and gazing up at him sleepily.

“Thank you for today,” he sighed and let out a small happy moan when Harry lifted his arm for Louis to slide under.

“For what?” Harry questioned and put out the final remaining light in the room. The bed lamp flickering off where it stood on the nightstand of Harry’s side of the bed.

“Everything,” Louis answered simply and closed his eyes, “the movie, candy, muffins, kisses, breakfast, dancing…” It all tumbled out before Louis could stop himself and when he realized what he’d said he fell silent, not daring to look at Harry, so he lay there stiff under the taller boy’s arm, breathing slightly ragged.

“Glad you enjoyed it then,” was all Harry said and then moved to lay down instead of leaning against the headboard, turning to face Louis who had now cracked his eyes open, peeking into a pair of green eyes in the darkness, a streetlight from outside lighting up a part of the bed and duvet. Harry reached around his arm to pull Louis’ head to his chest and the older boy was soon hugging him, both arms lying powerless around his torso.

“’m tired,” he hummed instead of actually trying to sleep.

“Well, I hate to break your dreams,” Louis mumbled, trying not to swoon over how close they were at the moment, “but you need to be quiet to sleep.”

And so Harry lit the lamp again and Louis groaned, contemplating over biting Harry in tired frustration but then decided against it.

“Lou,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes and blinking wide-eyed.

“What.”

“I can’t see anything,” he said and a small grin crept onto his lips, “the lines are all blurred.”

Louis opened his eyes, slowly, and glared at the adorable boy next to him.

“That’s… really, really bad love,” he said but couldn’t stop himself from breathing out a laugh, “now turn the light off so I can get some sleep.”

“What if I don’t want you to sleep?”

“Harry,” Louis mewled, “Don’t be a dick, turn the bloody light off or I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

And so the lights were quickly banished, Harry rolling Louis around to spoon him and they fell asleep short after Harry had whispered an _everybody get up_ in Louis’ ear.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

The morning after, Louis woke up to a distant tune coming from downstairs, his tired eyes snapping open to stare angrily at the ceiling.

He found that Harry still lay beside him, flipped over onto his stomach with his arms under one of the many pillows, duvet just above his bum and his back exposed to the morning light.

And maybe Louis would have appreciated the sight a bit more if he hadn’t heard Macklemore downstairs.

It was _far too early_ to deal with anything, Louis thought as he sat up and rubbed his eyes awake.

Without caring if Harry woke or not he stomped down the stairs, finding his friend’s phone blaring out Thrift Shop like yesterday and it he hadn’t know the code Louis sure as hell would have thrown it into the damn wall.

_07.36_

He started to mumble incoherent things as the music died out and he fell down in between the seats in the couch, feet propped up on the table.

He didn’t know what day it was, barely what month it was, and all he wanted to do was sleep a bit to reload his system.

The drapes were still shut in the room from their movie-afternoon the day before but the sun was already climbing the sky in a fast pace, shooting its rays through the small openings into the living room and onto Louis’ back and head, reflecting a bit in the wide-screened TV and throwing amber spots onto the wall opposite the windows.

With nothing to do he flicked on the TV, watching Discovery Channel with mild interest. He tried to close his eyes and fall asleep again but it was a fruitless attempt, so he just glared at the TV, cursing himself for waking up this early.

Light feet padded down the stairs and Louis glanced over to see a still half-asleep Harry stumble into the room, falling down next to him without uttering a word and lifted his arm to cover himself up with, nuzzling his head into Louis’ still bare chest.

“Morning sunshine,” Louis mumbled and Harry yawned to confirm his tired state, “your damn alarm woke me, y’know.”

“Shit,” Harry groaned and cuddled further into Louis, his hand running over the older boy’s skin slowly, “’m sorry.”

“Are you really though?”

Harry snorted.

“Yeah, if the alarm hadn’t gone off then I could’ve cuddled you for a few more hours, unlike now when I woke up to an empty side of the bed where I thought you’d be.”

Louis bent down to press a kiss to his forehead and noticed how he smelled of apples and pancakes. He stayed a beat longer then if it should have been done casually and breathed in his scent.

“Well, delete it then, or am I going to wake up to it tomorrow again?”

Harry just grinned lazily up at him with his full lips.

“You don’t have any clothes with you,” he pointed out.

“Can I borrow some then…?” Louis asked and Harry hummed, nodding.

“Of course.”

How Harry managed to look sexy in the mornings, Louis had no idea, but he wasn’t going to complain. And yeah, maybe he did watch this boy instead of the TV. And maybe he should go home to his family soon. And just maybe he didn’t want to leave this beautiful boy with his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“Today we’re going to do something,” Louis said with an unknown feeling in his chest he wasn’t completely sure about.

“Okay.” Harry looked up at him. “Like what?”

Louis thought for a moment what he had in mind and then glanced down at him.

“Can we, like, this is going to sound really stupid but like, just get in a car and drive, see where we end up, go on an adventure like in the movies.”

His hand was running through Harry’s curls and suddenly he felt calm, his heart slowing down and beating at a hard, steady pace.

“Just going on the road and drive?” Harry asked but in a soft tone, not the questioningly one Louis had expected, “never thought I’d be the one to think out of the two of us, but neither of us can drive Lou.”

“I can,” Louis shrugged, “a bit.”

“We’re gonna crash if you’re behind the wheel,” Harry said fondly.

“Hey,” Louis pouted and he noticed Harry staring at his lips in a not-so-subtle manner. “I guess you’re right, I was just, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It sounded like fun.”

Neither of them were watching the construction program on TV, although they pretended to, and Louis hadn’t quite realized it yet but Harry’s hand was still trailing over his chest.

“We should do it sometime,” Harry mused when they both got tired of not doing something in particular, just breathing each other’s used air, “like a road trip. But it’s so small here.”

“Are you suggesting the states?” Louis’ eyebrow rose and Harry pushed himself up to sit very closely to his friend.

“Maybe,” the younger grinned, “I mean, when we get older and can afford going there then yes, I’d like you to join me. Would you? If it comes down to it sometime – you, me and a lot of long bloody highways. What do you say?”

“I don’t know Haz,” Louis cocked his head and pretended to think about it when the answer was so incredibly simple. Harry whined and Louis vaguely saw him leaning in, then stopping himself and sitting back in the sofa.

“Please?”

Louis’ lips parted in a smile and that was all confirmation Harry needed.

“If your car is nice and there’s not candy wrapper all over it then of course I’ll join you. I wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity of singing out of pitch in the seat next to you while we zoom through the desert alone for hours. Just poke you during random times and annoy the shit out of you.”

It was something in the way Harry looked at him that shut him up and made him stare back into his strongly coloured green irises, much different from the faded shade they usually had. Perhaps it was the way those eyes flickered to Louis’ lips time after time really quickly, like he didn’t want Louis to understand what he meant or wanted. Or maybe it was just the way they had slowly started to lean in, closer to each other until there was barely any space in between, and Louis felt Harry’s hand hesitantly making a home for itself on Louis’ thigh.

And so-

“You have really soft thighs.”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Louis asked but the words sent an electrifying feeling down his spine anyway.

“I don’t know. But, like, you haven’t kissed me today-“

“Is that your way of asking-“

“Yes.”

And Louis just breathed out an _okay_ before feeling the light pressure of Harry’s lips against his own. This was weird, he thought, the feeling in his gut only grew stronger by Harry’s touch and the thoughts in his brain only spun and swirled faster, out of reach for him to grasp, and it felt so good like this, he felt good, with Harry this close to him and kissing and it was really good, Louis thought.

It was quite weird, how the two had been constantly touching one way or another these past days together and how happy Louis felt, and he figured that everything would make sense, it should make sense, but he was left even more confused than before.

He should have gotten used to Harry’s kisses, the way his lips and tongue moved, the way his hands held just a bit of power where they lay on different parts of Louis’ skin, but he didn’t, and that put him on edge. He should have started to grow at least a little bit tired of it, the feeling he got from this boy, but he didn’t, and made him re-think some things – some things being pretty much all he’s known about himself ever.

“Lou,” Harry breathed out, and it was barely a word but it felt like so much more the way it was whispered against Louis’ lips. Louis couldn’t think with Harry over him, standing like a narrow stone bridge when Louis was a weak brook, and it was growing increasingly difficult to breathe and Harry was everywhere, filling up all of Louis senses with his stupid smile and gentle touches and morning mood and his _fucking dancing_ and it was all attacking Louis at once and he really didn’t know how to handle it.

“I thought you said we were going to do something today,” Louis muttered between kisses and he felt Harry’s lips curl into a smile, his hand rubbing up and down Louis’ neck and shoulder and his eyes twinkling – something Louis had only seen a handful of times.

“Hm,” he hummed and landed a kiss on Louis’ nose, “nope. That was you love.”

“Well, it was a very shit idea,” he huffed and it took him everything he had and a little more to resist going back up to kiss Harry. He did however settle with his hands in Harry’s hair, tugging at the curls and watching his eyelids slip shut, letting out low sounds that washed over Louis like waves at dusk on an abandoned beach.

“You’re right,” he said after a while and helped Louis up in a sitting position, “I’d much rather do this all day. You should rest though, it’s like five am.”

“It’s almost half past eight.”

“Oh shut it and enjoy my company.”

So Louis did, leaning his head against his shoulder as they watched the architecture program that was on and slowly he started falling asleep again – all he could think about being candy rats and muffins and Harry and late nights and early mornings and waking up to a warm body next to his and Harry.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

Louis’ fingers were itching and he could feel his skin crawling, hands and legs shaking faintly and he was constantly on edge. He’d been living with Harry for about four or five days now – he wasn’t quite sure – and he’d called his mother every day to tell about him staying over another night at his friend’s house.

An idea of the party taking place right now was poking constantly at Louis, scratching him with forks and burning torches attacking his skin, and he hated it all. Harry didn’t know about it, and Louis didn’t intend to inform him either. Some things were just left better unsaid, he thought.

Worst thing was that he could see the lines before his eyes, how bright and white they were – _it’s like Christmas!_ He’d been told a few times – and the feeling when they were in his system, how good everything felt and how light he became and he could almost _fly_ ,and his body knew that, because he found himself sliding out of a sleeping Harry’s grip where he lay on the bed with a laptop in his knee, playing a movie he had insisted they should watch but then fallen asleep halfway through when the plot took off.

Louis rubbed his face quickly before glancing back at the boy, curls away from his closed eyes, and then turned to snatch his skinny jeans from the floor, fixing his hair briefly.

He hated it all, but _fuck_ , he really needed it now. He’d stop after tonight. He’d promised.

Which is why he left the house with a small note attached to the lid of the laptop saying _“just going home a quick bit to check something with mum, I’ll be back soon :) x Lou”_.

Walking with his hands deep inside his pockets, Louis’ eyes flickered out, afraid of someone catching him – someone almost ten out of ten times being Harry – and he unconsciously hurried his steps forward.

The sun was dipping by the horizon, shooting golden and orange rays into his blue eyes, and it had been one of the hottest days during the entire year. He and Harry had spent it outside, running around and staring intently at his neighbour’s water hose that lay facing the sky, pumping out water which the dogs ran through with open mouths, spit flying a little bit everywhere.

Louis had told him that they should snatch the hose while his neighbour was inside, but Harry had just looked at him with wide eyes and chuckled, telling him that _absolutely not_ because Louis _isn’t the one living one house away from the man_ who had apparently helped traumatizing Harry’s childhood with his screaming and, well, _other sounds_.

So Louis had told Harry to stay outside, then hurried in to grab a large bucket of ice cold water he poured over the unsuspecting male, laughing and trying to run away but slipping in the wet grass with Harry over him. But then the neighbour was coming out and Louis didn’t quite know why but Harry rolled off him and ran in to get a new load of water – one with which he later chased Louis around the backyard several laps.

They had spent the rest of the afternoon watching the never-coming sunset lying on towels to not get sticky grass all over their backs – having discarded their soaked shirts somewhere around the time by the fifth tackling move from Louis’ part – and they’d pointed up to the slightly clouded sky and showing each other the different funny shaped clouds.

_No, that is not a pirate ship, it looks like a tree._

_How the fuck do you see a tree in that?!_

And now Louis had reached the house – somehow these addresses seemed to leak better than celebrity gossip – and he didn’t even need to bang on the door because _there wasn’t a door_ , and that should have made him re-think, go back to Harry, but it didn’t.

The inside reminded him very much of the suburban house in which the fight had taken place many nights ago, although on the outside it didn’t the slightest. There were already furniture being flipped over and rolled around on the floor like tumbleweed in the wind and one of the scenes had been built in the nearby living room – which was incredibly large, he may inform you – and for the first time Louis felt out of place in there.

Blown pupils came into his vision as several people danced past him and it wasn’t until now that he heard the music, far too loud and electric and too little bass in it as usual. He found himself moving deeper into the house between stinking bodies that smelled of things Louis could only hope would disappear with his soon-to-be felt high.

He was fairly sure that this party would end similar to the one six days ago, but he would be gone by then so it really didn’t matter at the moment. Nothing did, now that he thought about it. Yet he thought about the tall jade-eyed boy sleeping alone with a hot laptop on his legs among the worn-out pillows and frayed blankets around him.

Snow lay on the tables in the small extra living room Louis found himself in a few minutes later. Fine rails and bumps all over the transparent glass and at least seven or six people sitting on the floor snorting it or eating it. He’d never tried eating it, hell, he barely knew what drugs were a few years ago. And a very minimal part of him wished that he could go back in time and just stay away, but right now he wanted to get high.

He fell down on his bum, settling himself cross-legged beside a short girl with long brown hair that hung in a mess around her thin face and her skin resembled the cocaine in front of her. She was grinning at him, gesturing to the powder on the table and he realized that the others gathered around were also watching him, black and red eyes and sick looking complexion, and they looked so fucking tired of life.

Louis briefly wondered if this was what he looked like when he was high, like this drained shell with a plastered smile on his lips, and he bent down and covered his left nostril, breathing in full force and repeating the motion, feeling a calm settle inside him, calming his itching fingertips and shaking thighs, and it felt really good. Fantastic even, he thought and accepted the next line on the table with a half hearted grin.

And just maybe did he think of a white smile alike the colour of the powder he inhaled like air.

It seemed like seconds had passed, but it was hours, had been hours since he arrived at the house, had been a few minutes since his last bump and about four seconds since he picked up his phone where he stood, leaning against the railing on the porch were there was a thick cloud of smog circling around his head and making his eyes water.

He was laughing at something one of the guys on the porch beside him had said when there was a faint rustling sound down the line followed by a hoarse voice asking something Louis didn’t catch.

“ _Haaarrryyy,_ ” he laughed and gazed out over the lawn that lay in the thick, strangling darkness, “miss you, where are ya? ‘s really nice here, you should- what are you doing? Not sleeping right? Oh, I remember one time-“

“Louis,” Harry cut him off with a tired voice, “where- what are you doing?”

“I wish you were here,” Louis pouted and then laughed again, plainly, “why aren’t you ‘ere? You should be here, it’s- you know this guy, right? No, I think it was a girl. Yeah, she’s just really, really, really nice, like, she offered me- you know, like – and there was this song, right?”

“Louis, don’t-“

“Okay, so this song, it was, like, it was louder than all the other ones, and-“ He cut himself off with a scratchy laugh and happily took one of the cigarettes being held out to him. “This girl Harry, she looked a bit like you, which is weird because you’re not a girl, like, I’ve seen your-“

“Stop,” Harry pleaded.

“- and she- but- not as beautiful as you, y’know, because I think you’re cute Harry, like, sugar cute. Wait, you don’t say that right? What is it? Like, sugar… sugar…”

“Where are you?” Harry tried again, “’m coming over, just tell me where you are.”

He sniffled and coughed out smoke at the same time, a faint grey cloud shooting out from his mouth and over the railing of the porch.

He fell back into a person’s arms, someone he didn’t know the name of but was taller and stronger than him and helped him stand again, and he turned back to see the girl from before, now sober and looking at him with guilt and pity, and Louis really couldn’t take that now.

“Harry,” he croaked out and coughed again, rubbing his red eyes, “’m coming home, don’t- like- don’t. I love you.”

And then he hung up.

He threw the used cigarette on the porch, putting it out hastily with his toes and sniffling, taking deep breaths as he fell down the steps and onto the lawn, fighting his way up and heading back to Harry’s.

Louis was just a very stupid person with a very stupid habit and very stupid feelings he didn’t want to deal with.

And he was aware that he was wearing Harry’s sweater that had yet to be washed, searching it for a spot of spit from when he had been claimed to drool on that sweater, but he didn’t find it and it all seemed to match with the growing darkness and its walls around him, and he was just a bit sad.

It was cold outside, he thought, figured from the way goose bumps rose upon his skin under the clothes and felt it in the air, a scent of coming rain blended with the smoke stuck to him and it was a sort of neutral feeling.

The stars were up but not nearly as beautiful as it’d been from inside that old retirement home room with the pink rug and Harry beside him and the red blanket, and he kind of missed the usual beauty of the sky this night.

He felt so small like this – exposed to the world even though no one was around to see him on unsteady legs and with dry lips, a borrowed sweater hanging off his slightly bony shoulders that was too big for him but helped him cover from the night a bit.

So it was okay.

It didn’t even feel like summer anymore. It was too dark and chilly and a slightly faded tone to everything – house façades to the flower gardens and leaves on the eerie trees that clawed at the starry sky. It wasn’t quite like autumn either. Too warm and green. Nor winter or spring. In the night it all seemed to be a big nothingness in which Louis wandered, fighting his way back to a place he’s known for quite a while now.

He saw the house up the street, and it was slightly unfamiliar in the blackness, and perhaps that was good.

Harry opened for him when he knocked and Louis didn’t need to look up to see Harry’s expression change. He didn’t want to see himself, training his gaze on the floor as a careful hand tugged him by his arm to the bathroom upstairs, the one beside Harry’s bedroom.

The boy seemed to do a damage control on Louis, staring into his eyes with a hurt expression, or angry, or frustrated, or sad, and checking his teeth, moving his finger in between Louis’ lips that could use a desperate dose of lip balm and pulling them apart far enough for the taller to study his mouth, and then his arms and neck.

Louis stood there, feeling the urge to cry or be embarrassed but he just couldn’t. Harry led him over to the bed and Louis saw how tired he really was, bag under his eyes tired and his eyelids drooping closed every other second, and Louis felt a sting in his chest.

He sort of wanted Harry to hold him like the last time he’d been high. He wanted that a lot.

He was laid onto the bed gently, blanket after blanket and duvet being draped over him and he realized that he was shivering from the hint of cold times outside, and Harry was placing his head on top of at least five pillows and Louis just didn’t know _why_.

Crossing the line that had been drawn since he left Harry’s earlier he reached up to brush his hand against the younger boy’s cheek, trying to push away the feeling that he lacked something for just a moment to kiss him.

Expected or not, it still hurt when Harry pushed him away slowly, licking his lips and stroking Louis’ fringe away from his eyes before turning the lights off in the room and sliding under the covers far from the smaller boy.

It hurt more than it should have.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

Shadows painted the room a faint grey, and it didn’t surprise Louis anymore to see that it was before seven in the morning and that he was alone in the bed.

He flipped over to where there was a space where they duvet was pushed aside that seemed bigger than it actually was, _Harry_ written all over it. Rain smattered lightly against the window which he could see if he leaned on his elbows. They sky was bright, almost a shade of white, and the trees screamed gloomy alike the lawns and houses on the street.

Louis rolled out of bed tiredly and stretched on his way to the window. Sounds from the kitchen floated up to the bedroom and he glanced towards the door, smelling distantly of toast and bacon, and he longed to join Harry for breakfast, but considering all the shit he’d done yesterday he sighed and sat down on the edge of the wooden desk placed in front of the window.

It creaked when he placed his weight on it and when his gaze swept to the side he noticed the coffee cup that stood there, deep brown rings at the bottom of it, and Louis just really liked the old coffee scent – reminded him of his deceased grandfather a bit – so he picked it up with both hands as if to warm up and then brought it to his nose to breathe in weakly.

A young girl fought her way through the wind and water outside with a dog fighting its way away from her in a leash. The dog was winning, running with its mouth wide open and probably barking on top of its voice, and the girl reminded him of his younger sister quite a lot.

Home was a place he’d almost forgotten during this week. He hadn’t seen his family for days – sure, he’d heard his mother’s voice and background noises made by his sisters, but that was far from physical contact, and he missed them. Especially now when Harry was most likely pissed at him.

Louis kinda wished that it had still been fresh coffee in the cup for him to drink, or tea, tea was fine as well, just something to take his mind off things for a second, a minute or two. He didn’t actually like to drink coffee though, it was too strong for him, but the scent was one of his favourites.

He would sit on the living room in his grandparents’ house and watch his grandfather sip on an espresso, telling Louis about all the stuff and journeys he’d been out on during his lifespan, and little Louis would eagerly listen to him, drinking in everything he said and then more than happily accept a fresh cookie – always newly baked – from his grandmother who then joined in on the conversation, adding small things.

 _Oh no dear, it was a mountain lion outside the camp, not a puma beside your rucksack,_ or _yes, but do you remember the locals in Brazzaville?_ Then turning to Louis. _So nice and thoughtful, gave your granddad one of those long masks you know? Really handsome he was._ Then there was, of course, those times when his grandmother would get so into the story or quoting someone that she would stand up and curse like a sailor. Those had been Louis’ favourite moments, they way his grandfather’s mouth just hang open as if saying _do you remember the seven year old in front of us?_ and she would just grin and show her lack of teeth.

Looking back at that kid who sat quietly in front of his grandparents with a cookie made Louis realize how he’d changed these recent years. From drinking soda at his family trips to the local pizza place to going around smoking cigarettes and snorting cocaine. It wasn’t quite the change he’d hoped for or expected, but life’s shit so he’ll take whatever he gets.

Puddles were forming outside on the pavement, growing deeper and deeper as the rain fell harder and thicker, bigger drops attacking the asphalt, and he felt bad for the little girl with the dog that was more than half her size and surely much stronger. Hadn’t her parents considered their decision of letting her out in this weather with thin, green military boots and a mad dog a little bit more?

Apparently not, Louis thought, and hopped off the desk, dressing in the only pair of clothes he’d brought with him because he didn’t know if he was allowed to wear Harry’s yet.

Breakfast was ready when he finally summed up the courage to go downstairs, padding out quietly into the kitchen. Harry was sitting by table in silence, nibbling on a ham covered toast and a glass of milk in front of him to join the empty plate, and Louis noticed that there was a plate on the opposite side as well – for him, he hoped, that is if Harry hadn’t invited someone over but the thought seemed far too strange to be real – and there were dishes and ingredients stocked in piles in the sink and on the counter.

Louis stood there for a while, fiddling with his left sleeve and watching as the dark haired boy either ignored his presence or just didn’t spot him where he stood stiff like a statue in the doorway. Harry’s skin was sort of glowing in silver from the light outside, a new level of bleak added to it, and it reminded him of the foam created by the waves sweeping over the beaches in Thailand, a country which he’d been to a few times when he was younger.

“Hi,” he said eventually, and it was so small and slightly hoarse that Louis barely heard himself. Harry turned to him though, a hint of pink on his cheeks, staring at Louis and made him feel even more insignificant compared to this boy.

“Hey.”

It seemed as if Harry had been awake for hours, the way his voice was far from newly woken, and Louis thought that it explained the coldness of the other side of the bed.

When nothing more was said Louis carefully slid down on the chair opposite Harry, reaching for the orange marmalade and spreading it out over the now chilled toast on the circular plate in front of him, the shade of Harry’s skin.

He wasn’t very hungry, but the fact that Harry had taken his time to make Louis breakfast as well made the older boy eat the food in the thick silence floating in between them like a toxic cloud.

The rain dripped more softly against the window now, just a few minutes after Louis had made his way down to the kitchen, and Harry watched the slow drops run down the glass, escaping the sky to seek comfort within the earth, and his eyes looked so sad and faded in Louis’ opinion. Like he’d aged seven years over night, resting his chin in his palm without shifting his gaze from the damn window and the grey and white world outside.

Harry had this ability to leave parts of him behind, like hints of his existence, Louis had realized. Like the coldness of the bed which he’d created early in the morning, or the coffee cup he refused to bring down to wash in the kitchen or just in the bathroom connected to his room, like the thin trail of red paint on the wall that had ended up there many years ago and like the small space he’d taken in Louis’ heart and wouldn’t return. Things like that.

He had started dipping the part of the toast that wasn’t thick with orange marmalade into his tea, watching the bread turn a dark brown the colour of earth and then up to study Harry who hasn’t acknowledged him in the slightest since the “hi’s”. He ate in silence, the same type of silence that filled the room when Louis stood in the doorway.

It was a sort of bitter melody sounding in Louis’ ears, a melancholy acoustic song sung by that flaming haired singer Harry loved, or one of those weird indie bands the younger boy listened to twenty-four-seven, the kind Louis often didn’t even count as “real” music – whatever that was.

Louis thought about pulling his clothes tighter around himself and venture out in the rain that was slowly starting to escalate into a storm, leave Harry in peace and then see what happens, but something was keeping him here. Maybe it was because Harry hadn’t actually told him to _get the fuck out of my house_ or _go home Louis_ , hadn’t lashed out on Louis yet. Maybe Harry was too angry at him to speak and was just waiting for Louis to close the front door after him.

Harry stood, his chair scooting over the floor slowly, and he picked up the used items on the table to wash in the sink or put back in the fridge. Louis was about to get up and help but Harry just swooped by and stole his dish and the crumbs from his toast. Back facing Louis he began washing the glasses and plates and the shorter boy noticed that he didn’t hum a silly tune like he usually did. It sent a heavy rock falling from above to land deep in Louis’ gut.

“Do you need help?” he wondered softly and Harry almost seemed to flinch at the words, but Louis had to ask, had to speak sooner or later.

“’m fine,” came the reply and Louis watched his shoulders tense again as he rubbed the plate clean. He wasn’t wearing any socks and his pyjama pants only showed his toes, his hair was still a huge mess from sleeping and he wore a slightly ripped T-shirt.

Louis wondered what he’d been doing all morning.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

 

The blue-eyed boy had buried himself in the couch shortly after, Anne’s laptop connected to the TV with a long black wire and Netflix open from their movie-afternoon many days prior. Despite the comedy currently being streamed Louis did not feel like laughing one bit. Neither did he feel like watching a bitter romantic one – _yuck_. He’d briefly considered one of the Harry Potter movies, smiling faintly when he remembered Niall jumping up and down shouting _Snape kills Dumbledore! Snape kills Dumbledore!_ and Zayn had punched him to the point where the blonde boy fell over clutching his aching arm because he was the only one who hadn’t seen it yet.

Cream coloured pillows covered half of his mouth so that only his eyes were visible and he peeked over at the screen, the characters currently having a sing-along in the car with different disco tunes from the 80’s, and Louis felt so sick.

He hadn’t heard where Harry had taken off once he was finished in the kitchen, hadn’t even heard him turn off the water but when Louis paused for a moment to listen it was off, and that was that.

Harry still stood in the kitchen when Louis had turned off the computer to let it rest – burning air coming out the left end and the boy was afraid that he would light the house if this continued. Curly hair hung over the hands that were covering his face and his shoulders were shaking, no sound whatsoever coming from his sad figure.

Floorboards creaked slightly when Louis hesitantly made his way forward and Harry stilled for a second to remove his hands and gaze up at him, and whether he liked it or not Louis didn’t miss the tear that silently collided with the kitchen floor.

For once Louis didn’t linger by the doorway and quickly closed the distance between them, prepared to grab Harry with violence if he resisted in the embrace he was now held in, but Harry just went limp and rested his forehead against Louis’ shoulder. The shirt the older boy was wearing was starting to cling to his skin when Harry never seemed to stop, now quiet sobs filling the room, and Louis hadn’t got a single clue about what to do now so he tried his best to hold his friend in the best god-damn hug he could manage.

Hugging him worked pretty well until Harry started pushing him away, telling him wordlessly that he needed a bit of space, and Louis could not have been faster to back away from him. He stood and watched Harry wipe his eyes and try to calm down while occasionally tightening his grip around the counter so that his knuckles turned a sickly white colour.

“I don’t want you to die,” he said lowly, a weak plea with a light rasp to it.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispered, tried to speak but his voice wouldn’t bear anymore. He was surprised that Harry’s did.

“No. Louis…” The younger shook his head and his grip loosened around the counter. “You can’t, like, you can’t just-“

“I’m not going to die,” Louis defended himself and dared to lean against the table, half-mirroring Harry’s position a few feet away, “I’m fine.”

Harry breathed out a laugh and it was so out of place – didn’t fit his pervious actions or the current or the weather or light and it was so _wrong._

“Louis, did you see yourself yesterday? No, wait, did you _hear_ yourself yesterday?” Harry was glaring at him, lips curled into a smile and his eyes wide. “I don’t really think I’m overreacting love, you being a fucking drug addict-“

“I’m not an _addict_ ,” Louis said but they felt misplaced in his mouth, tasted of guilt.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Of course you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, and even if I were it’s my business so you shouldn’t get to decide what the hell I do and don’t.” His voice had grown louder, on the verge of shouting, but the irritation flooding him made it hard to keep his calm.

“It’s not my- it is my fucking business Lou, how about you’re my friend? My best friend at that, doesn’t that matter anything to you? How about you _promised_ me you’d fucking _quit_? Is that good enough reasons for you?”

He hadn’t… right?

“Harry, it is bad. It’s really fucking bad. It’s _deadly_ ,” Harry quoted and Louis felt the rock bury itself in a small cave in his heart. “Louis, do you think you can _ever_ quit?”

He wanted to nod without thinking first, but then he remembered how restless he’d been before and how itchy his fingers were and how his legs were shaking as if he’d been working out for hours. He nodded anyway.

“Because if you don’t, just please stay away from me.” Tears were back in Harry’s eyes and the rock was starting to punctuate Louis’ inner organs. “I don’t wanna grow to know the person you become when you’re high.”

Two people had said this, Louis thought. First it’d been Niall on the phone, basically telling him that couldn’t give two fucks on the topic of Louis’ bad habits but that the blonde refused to see him if he was high, and then there was Harry now, who looked so vulnerable – like a little kid – and it had all happened in less than a week.

An image popped up in his head, a world without Harry by his side, a place in fifty shades of grey instead of green and brown curls and his laugh and cold concrete walls instead of chocolate ones and a bed that would be constantly empty on the other side.

Louis hadn’t replied in at least three minutes and Harry let out a teary chuckle, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and walked past the shorter boy out of the kitchen.

“Rehab,” Louis croaked and Harry froze in his steps, chilled tears stuck on his cheek and in his long lashes. “If I can’t quit on my own I’ll go to rehab – just don’t- don’t leave me, please don’t leave me Harry.”

Louis was nearing him, placing a small hand on his shoulder and looking into his neck when he couldn’t see the jade eyes he wanted.

The rain had calmed outside and was now only dripping quietly, thin rings forming in the seemingly metre-deep dark grey puddles, and the sun that hadn’t showed itself the whole day was beginning its long journey down past the horizon. Kids were making their way outside, bright yellow and pink and blue raincoats and high boots matching each other and kicking footballs and basketballs around instead of throwing them through the nets put just a few feet above the ground.

Harry was hesitating in shrugging off Louis’ hand or lean into the touch, that the blue-eyed boy could see, but he ended up doing neither. He simply stood there a bit like a zombie, waiting for something, anything really, to happen, and when it didn’t he turned to face the smaller boy, cupping his cheek carefully.

“Promise?” Harry asked and Louis couldn’t have said no even if he wanted to.

“Yeah. Yeah I promise. You can kill me if I don’t.”

Harry chuckled and _fuck_ it had been far too long since he laughed.

“’m not gonna kill you,” he said and cocked his head, gaze lowering from Louis’ eyes. “I could never kill you.”

“Are you sure?” Louis figured it was safe to speak freely now. “Like, I could probably come up with a few things I could do to-“

“Lou, just shut up,” Harry mumbled as their noses nudges together and suddenly it wasn’t so hard to keep silent.

He was almost expecting a stream of “wut’s” to break them apart where he was pinned to the wall by Harry’s hands, but when it didn’t a laugh slipped from his lips and he felt Harry smiling as well, so he just continued laughing and tugging at the curly haired boy’s hair until they finally parted as Louis was laughing to much to move his lips properly.

Best part was probably because he didn’t know what was so funny.

 

_-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-_

It was the final day – or night, really, since the clock had ticked away to half past eleven – before the women of the Styles household would return from their ski trip and Harry and Louis lay on the roof of his neighbour’s house, arm under their heads like they’d been doing a day or two ago when they drowned each other in ice cold water and pointing up at different constellations.

They’d brought up steaming tea and blankets and pillows and hoodies in case it got cold, and Louis had snatched one of Harry’s dark brown hoodies – partly because he hadn’t got any with him and partly because they were so much cosier than the ones he had at home. One of the thinner blankets – it was more of a tablecloth, Harry’s idea – was used as a sort of picnic blanket where a few of the muffins they’d made before stood.

Louis had been whining for at least thirty minutes and going on and on about how they should go down the road to buy more candy but Harry had straight-up refused, telling him that they had more than enough with the muffins and tea and a back of homemade cookies he’d found in the back of the cupboards – the things they could find in there – and after a few kisses and a bit of threats involving tickling Louis had given in, helping his friend to carry all the shit out and sneaking over the lawn to the edge of his neighbour’s house, then climbing the ladder on the side and now here they were.

“You’re shit at this,” Louis told him fondly and kissed his knuckles.

“’s not my fault my mother didn’t teach me to memorize the sky as a kid,” Harry huffed and snatched his hand back, Louis laughing and covering his mouth. They didn’t want to wake the owner of this roof, that much was certain.

“Now, my mother did teach me to see the stars individually and then in groups, I was quite the nerd in fourth grade if you remember-“

“ _If_ I remember,” Harry snorted and turned his head to gaze at Louis who were sitting up to grab another cookie.

“You want one?” he mumbled through a mouthful and Harry nodded, accepting the thing thankfully and lifting his cup to take another sip of his cooling tea. It had been to hot to even touch for the first five minutes but the outside temperature had quickly chilled it to a drinkable hotness.

Louis cuddled in under their three shared blankets that lay like a loose cocoon around them, abandoning his side and pressing himself against Harry’s side, trailing kisses along his neck up to his eyes and the corner of his mouth.

“You’re making it hard winning this game Lou,” Harry groaned but instead of pushing him away he laid an arm around the older boy, the two sharing body heat under the blankets.

“I’ve given up already,” Louis sighed happily and hid his face in Harry’s neck, intentionally breathing out warm in air in little puffs that made Harry squirm.

“Stop,” Harry complained weakly, “’m gonna win this and you’re not gonna stop me.”

“Lose, lose, lose,” Louis chanted softly in his ear and Harry pushed him away, expression tightening as he tried to spot another one of the seven constellations he knew. Louis had nailed about four before tossing the task aside and attacking Harry’s skin with his lips.

“Hey,” Louis laughed, “I’m sorry okay? Don’t push me away.”

“’s your fault though,” Harry mumbled and moved to face the shorter boy, “if you weren’t such a pain in the ass-“

“Alright, what does Liam have to do with this?” Louis grinned and it only took the fraction of a second for Harry to catch up.

“Not only are you a sore loser but you’re dragging our friends with you down,” he stated and Louis shook his head, blinking slowly and realized how tired he’d become these past minutes of small touches and the stars above as their ceiling.

“I wouldn’t mind it being a little bit warmer here.”

“Greedy bastard,” Harry muttered and then returned to watch the stars.

Louis lay back, close to Harry, and studied the sky – blackness with a hint of planets and souls and stars and maybe a rocket ship or two. He wondered if people turned into stars when they died, if that was why there were so many of them, if only the guys ended up there, shining balls of fire and shit that could kill him in the blink of an eye, if his grandfather and father were up there.

“How’s your eye love?” Harry asked softly and Louis had totally forgotten the bruise that covered half of his face.

“Fantastic,” he smiled.

Summer gave them an advantage as it wasn’t as cold as in winter or autumn time, but it was still cold enough for the two to shiver and goose bumps to peek up on their arms and legs. The house was just a little bit taller than Harry’s, and from the roof on which the two lay on they could see to the end of the street in both ends – the way to town and the one that ended in a large, lanky old house like the one in the movies.

Harry had told him that when he was a kid there were actually people living in the house, and that he and his sister often sneaked out of the house to either ring the bell and then hide behind a tree as the old woman living there went to open the door, staring out onto an empty neighbourhood, or they’d try to slip in through the backdoor to explore and sometimes change places on small things to see if the couple living there noticed.

Young Harry had been positive that the woman was a witch, and had been over there many times even his sister couldn’t join him. The only thing he’d seen when looking through the window was the giant piano in the living room and the couple playing together – smooth melodic tones sailing out through the half-open window, and Harry would sometimes sit down and lean against the house and listen to the two creating new forms of sound Harry had never heard in his entire life before.

Harry had told Louis that the man and woman later moved because they couldn’t afford the house and it was in a very poor condition, but he was positive that it was because he and his sister had moved objects and rung the doorbell – therefore tricking them into thinking that the house was haunted, and after that packing their bags as soon as possible, running out without putting a “for sale” sign on the front lawn.

The ghost-like house had been standing there since then – at the far end of the street on which Harry lived, and it had only grown more unstable and dangerous to be around, so he’d simply stopped going there after a few months of creaking floorboards and rats running over his bare feet.

“That one,” Louis pointed up tiredly without actually looking, but Harry seemed to spot something as he let out an _oh_ that put a faint smile on the blue-eyed boy’s lips. Harry’s hand was brushing his hair while explaining proudly to Louis that _yes, I kinda know this one, it’s called the lion and consists of these thirteen stars you see_ and Louis just didn’t even pretend to listen anymore. He was far too relaxed to care.

“Louis,” Harry whispered and nudged the boy who yawned and gazed up at him, mirroring his smile.

“What?” he asked quietly and Harry’s grin just widened.

He leaned down to brush his lips against Louis’ ear, “I won.”

“Congratulations Styles,” Louis huffed and sat up to hug his knees to his chest, taking a few moments to really _see_ everything he would never be able to touch up there. Harry was watching him, but Louis was too captured in the task of staring at Venus to notice him.

“I love you.”

Normally the older boy probably would have a sarcastic response in store, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer that way – especially not when it was Harry, who was resting his head on Louis’ shoulder.

So he just sat there for a while with his heart in his throat, stared up to the stars and maybe he did breathe out a _thank you_ under his breath and then turned to kiss his friend, hands instinctively going up to the taller’s cheeks, and maybe he did enjoy it a bit more than he should have a few days ago because of the words that had been said, and he most definitely whispered them back with a smile that threatened to split his face in half.

But that was all between him, Harry, and the millions of resting souls above.


End file.
